


Epiphytic Wood

by Monstrous_Moonshine



Series: Mid-Ballum-er Murders [1]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Murder Mystery, Police, Pre-Slash, Self-Doubt, Sleeping Pills, Slow Burn, Swearing, mainly pre slash at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monstrous_Moonshine/pseuds/Monstrous_Moonshine
Summary: Ben’s moved into a pretty picturesque village as a last resort to get away from his father in London.But when he finds something unexpected at the bottom of his garden, he has to work out whether he’s imagining things or if it’s real.  And how does he convince the gorgeous but skeptical Detective Inspector that he’s not crazy?Or.... I wanted to write an AU of Midsomer Murders, because Walford must surely have the highest proportion of murderers per capita?This is a murder mystery, please don’t read if it will trigger you.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Series: Mid-Ballum-er Murders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119554
Comments: 41
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this got right into my head and wouldn’t let go until I’d written it.
> 
> I am a little wary of posting it with regards to things that have been going on both in EE and in the real world, but I enjoyed writing it and so here goes.
> 
> I have a little series of these planned if this one goes well, so this is very slow burn, setting up the next stories I have planned out.
> 
> I plan to upload once a week, hopefully on Thursdays.

Ben drove into the little, picturesque village, passing chocolate-box houses and picket fenced gardens. He had been here before, when looking over the house, but he didn’t recognise much of what he was seeing now. To be fair, when he had come down the previous month to finalise the sale, he’d been in a bit of a state and hadn’t really taken anything in around him. All he was interested in was finally getting away from his father - from Phil - he mentally corrected himself, not his father, not now. And this village, and his new house, represented a safe environment, a new start. Sanctuary from London and from Phil. It could have been rundown and derelict and he wouldn’t really care, as long as it was his and not his family’s.

As he drove past the village centre, he was forced to slow down behind a funeral procession, turning into the little village church graveyard. Ben shut his eyes behind the wheel as he stopped behind the large black cars. He hoped this wasn’t an omen for his new life. It had better not be, with all the fuss of moving house, leaving his job, leaving Phil and London life behind, a bad start to village life was the last thing he wanted.

He drove through the little winding lanes until he reached the house, his house. Again, he’d seen it once, when he’d decided enough was enough and he needed to get away, but he didn’t remember too much about it. He’d left most of the decoration and furniture building to his mum to sort out and so this was the first time seeing it completely set up himself.

It was more a cottage than a house, tucked away in a quiet, lovely area of the village. He had his own little garden, behind his own little fence, which made him chuckle because he couldn’t even keep a houseplant alive for more than a week, let alone know how he would be able to tend to his own garden. The cottage was made up of two stories, with quaint little windows and a sloping roof, small but full of character. Ben knew there was a large garden behind it, backing onto the wooded area that ran around the outskirts of the village. A name plaque attached to the stone wall by the gate proclaimed the name “Primrose Cottage” which caused another chuckle, because Ben had never imagined himself living in a house named after a flower. To be completely honest, he’d never imagined himself living anywhere other than with Phil in London, so this whole thing was just so bizarre, he had to laugh or else he’d end up in tears.

He pulled his car up onto the drive and looked suspiciously at the cottage because there were lights on downstairs, and he definitely did not want to see anyone tonight. All he wanted to do was get sorted, get unpacked and try to go to sleep, even if he was worried about the nightmares he’d been having for ages. He’d have to get sorted with the doctors tomorrow to sort out his sleeping pills, and that was the most face to face contact he was planning on having for a good while. So who on earth was in his cottage? He knew it wasn’t his mum, she was still in London, a phone call away if he needed her, but he had been so determined to start afresh that he’d asked her to stay away for a while at least. He hoped it wasn’t a nosy neighbour from the village, making small talk with anyone was the last thing he wanted to do. And it would just be his luck that he’d be robbed on the day he moved in.

He let himself in carefully, standing just inside the front door and listening carefully. There was silence, no sound of anyone else other than himself inside the cottage, but there was definitely light coming from under the doorways of at least two rooms. He looked around where he was standing and grabbed hold of a umbrella from the stand by the door. This would have to do if it was needed.

“Hello?” he called out, “anyone here?” 

There was no reply so he cautiously pushed open the nearest door, umbrella held ready to use if he was rushed by a burglar. But there was no one in the room and so he came in fully, looking around carefully. He was in the sitting room, a large cosy room with a fireplace and two sofas arranged in it. A bucket with fire logs was by the side of the fireplace, a table in between the two sofas had a note on it and the TV was set up and plugged in although switched off. It was so different to his flat in London, but the polished wood seemed to fit the country lifestyle well and he had to admit that his mum had sorted out the furniture well. 

He left the note for a minute, looking out the window instead. From here, he could see the neighbour’s houses, set back from the road with their own perfectly manicured gardens on show. He was sure he could see some curtains twitching in the house opposite so he shut his own curtains firmly and then sat down on one of the sofas, trying to regulate his breathing. Being the centre of attention was so not going to help his current mental state, even though he knew that someone new moving into the village would cause lots of gossip. 

Once he was calm again, he picked up the note, a piece of paper covered in spidery writing he didn’t recognise.  _ Mrs Beale asked me to make sure things were set up for your first night here. I’ve made your bed up and put towels in the bathroom. Left a lasagne in the oven for you, milk and butter in the fridge and bread in the bread bin, and put the spare key back through the letterbox. The village shop is open every day for when you need more stuff. Feel free to call me if you need anything. _

The noted was signed off with a phone number and Ben resisted the immediate urge to call his mum and complain that she’d had someone come and look after him, that he had moved out precisely to live his own life. He knew if he texted her right now, he’d probably say something he’d regret later, once he’d calmed down. He threw his phone onto the table, away from himself so he couldn’t pick it up straight away and bit at his thumbnail. He knew she was only looking out for him, she was the only person who even cared enough to think of looking out for him, and everyone was being very kind but it still stung. He didn’t want to be looked after, cared for like he was ill. He wanted to be strong and brave and away from Phil and horrible thoughts and memories. 

It took him a while to sort his head out and then he stood up and walked back to the front door where the spare key indeed was lying on the mat. He picked it up and saw a wooden bowl on the side table, almost like it was there waiting for the key. With another scowl at the thought of his mum babying him, he dropped it in and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked fine, apart from dark circles under his eyes, there was no obvious outside indication of the mental turmoil he’d been going through recently. He didn’t need anyone. He was fine by himself.

He shook his head once at himself in the mirror and then decided to explore the rest of the cottage. It didn’t take too long, been as the cottage was small and cosy. Upstairs there were two small but perfectly decorated bedrooms, one double and one single. The double bed had been made up with his sheets and duvet and his suitcases that had been delivered from London earlier were in here too. The roof sloped down over one corner, and with the dark wood furnishings it made it look like the quintessential cottage bedroom. Ben found he actually quite liked it, with soft lighting and plush carpets it was warm and welcoming. There was a bathroom as well, small but with a shower and bath and decorated in cream and blue. Downstairs, there was the sitting room, the kitchen and a small room that he would use to store everything in and that was it. It was dark by now so he couldn’t see out to the garden but he remembered the kitchen overlooked it and that it had been kept and maintained well. Maybe he would find a gardener to keep it up to scratch now, he wasn’t sure if he would even know the difference between a plant and a weed.

Ben decided he quite liked the cottage. Despite it being bigger than the flat he’d lived at in London, it felt quaint and cosy and it was just what he’d needed after the shock of the last six months. He was ready for a new start.

As he came back downstairs, Ben paused for a second half way up the flight as he caught a whiff of the unmistakable smell of woodsmoke. He’d not set the fire up and there was no one else in the house. Was he mistaken? He stepped back up a few steps and sniffed but the smell had already vanished. Maybe it was all the years of wood fires that had permeated the wood of the cottage and that was what he was smelling? 

Ben became aware that the fact he was standing half way up his stairs and sniffing the air was quite ridiculous and he gave himself a shake and a laugh and trotted down the rest of the stairs, suddenly hungry. Maybe having someone fix his dinner wasn’t actually a bad thing because he didn’t have to worry about cooking anything. He came through the hallway, heading for the kitchen when he drew himself to a complete stop, frozen at the sight of a shadowy figure standing to the side of the sitting room.

“Hello, who's there?” he called, voice shaking and heart pounding as he looked around for a weapon of some sort to arm himself with. There was no response and he looked up again and then blinked, because the figure was no longer there. He moved into the sitting room, blinking around cautiously but it was just him and nothing else, it was completely empty. He wasn’t actually sure if it was a relief to find it empty, because that meant maybe his mind was playing tricks on him again.

“Just the shadows, you idiot,” he chastised himself, “must have been lights reflecting off a car or something. Don’t be so bloody stupid.”

And he went into the kitchen where he could sit for his dinner. If he shut the sitting room door firmly behind him then no one needed to know, it was obviously just to keep the warmth from the oven in the kitchen where he was eating. He put the radio on because then at least he wasn’t left totally alone with his thoughts and began to eat the lasagne.

It was only when he was half way through that he remembered that he’d shut the curtains to the sitting room and so it surely couldn’t have been a trick of the light.

The next morning, Ben woke up, feeling dopey and gluey. He’d been disoriented, sleeping in a new house, in a new bedroom, in quietness rather than with the busy sounds of a London street outside his window and he’d had to take double the amount of sleeping pills to get to sleep. At the time he thought it a good idea, but now he was regretting it.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he realised he could smell woodsmoke again, and this time he frowned and walked back and forth across the landing. He couldn’t be imagining it happening again, surely, so where was the smell coming from? He couldn’t pin down where it was permatating from, although he did get occasional whiffs from randomly different places on the landing. In the end, he gave up and turned the shower on so it was slightly too hot. After all, did it really matter if the cottage smelt a bit? It wasn’t unpleasant and it was an old cottage after all, smells were bound to linger and better woodsmoke than mould or damp. He decided to push it to the back of his mind and not worry about it again, after all, there were a lot more pressing things to be concerned about.

He eventually got out of the shower once it was running colder and pottered downstairs where he made a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen, looking out at the garden now it was daylight. It was a nice garden, even though the forest at the back was darker. Ben could hear the sound of birds calling and he realised it was the first time ever he’d had the chance to eat breakfast and listen to nature. It made his decision to move out here more worthwhile. Even if it was hard, it was for the best.

As he sat looking out, he put his cup down and leant forward, trying to peer outside for a closer look. He was sure that under the trees, just at the start of the forest in amongst the dark undergrowth, there was another figure, standing still and staring at the house. He put his cup down hurriedly and opened the back door, relieved to see that there was no one there, rather, it was a trick of the light falling through the thick leaves. It had to be that, there was no one there after all.

Ben made his way back to the table, rubbing the hot liquid he’d only just noticed he’d spilled over his hand. His knees were shaking a little. After everything that had gone on with his dad - Phil, he chastised himself again - seeing shadowy figures in his house and garden was not the way he wanted to start the day. “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” he told himself out loud, firmly. Because if he wasn’t hallucinating and seeing things that weren’t there, then maybe the figures were real people, from London, from Phil and that was indefinitely worse. At least, he could put hallucinations down to the stress of moving house and tiredness, right? Better than admitting that he was still freaking out over Phil and what he’d done in London. 

With a more settled mind set, he finished his tea and made some toast and then decided that he needed to get more food in and that venturing into the village for a look around would be best to get over and done with before he became even more of an enigma. A city boy, moving here alone, he knew how it would look and could only guess how the locals would react. Best to suck it up now and then hide out at the cottage when he at least had enough food for a week, rather than just bread and milk and leftover lasagna.

So after he’d finished breakfast and made three attempts to get out of the front door, he took a slow walk into the village centre. It was a pretty little village, with cobbled streets and a central square with the church to one side, a coffee shop and a bookshop on the opposite edge. There were groups of people walking around, some of whom looked at him and pointed and others who flat out ignored him. Ben knew which groups he preferred, to be honest, and gave flat stares back to those who were curious enough to gape at him. Turning out of the square, he found the village pub and next to it, the police station. He gave a huff of laughter, wondering why such a sleepy, quiet place would need a police station. Maybe it was murder central here and he just didn’t know it yet?

Still chuckling to himself, he wandered around the corner and found the village shop, his end destination. He walked inside, looking at the aisles of food and wishing he’d at least brought a list of what he needed when he was hailed by the man behind the cashier.

“Hey! Are you new here?” he called over to Ben, who rolled his eyes because there was no way no one knew he wasn’t from the village. However, lack of human contact and the need to talk to somebody made him approach the desk. The man behind it had ginger hair and kind eyes as he watched Ben draw near. “I’m Jay Brown,” he said, holding out his hand and waiting. Ben eyed it suspiciously but in the end took it and gave it the quickest shake he possibly could.

“Ben Mitchell,” he eventually said, and Jay beamed at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with an exaggerated wink that made Ben crack a smile, albeit small. “Everyone knows, you’re the new boy here. I’d stay away from the church and the village hall if I were you, you’ll never make it out alive.”

Ben had known people in London, but really no one that he’d consider a true friend and this, this was the closest he’d been to another person in ages. It actually felt nice, to have someone talking to him like he was a normal human being. He responded with a fuller smile, which obviously convinced Jay to carry on talking.

“Are you ok, you look a little lost?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“I was just after some food. I don’t know what I need though,” Ben admitted and Jay gave a laugh and came out from behind the counter. 

“I’ll help,” he offered and between them they filled up a basket of essential items that Ben could use throughout the week. Jay also slipped some takeaway menus into his basket with a wink. “Don’t want to scare away all my customers, but you seem like you may need these too,” he joked, lightly.

“Thanks,” Ben said, looking at the mountains of bags of food he’d somehow managed to collect and wondering how on Earth he was going to get them back to the cottage.

Jay saw him looking. “Did you drive up?” he asked and when Ben shook his head, he nodded. “S’ok, I can drop them off later on, free delivery’s included here. You’ve just moved into Primrose Cottage, right?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, thankful for the offer. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Jay grinned and then he came back out from the counter. “I’m due a break, fancy a pint?”

And before Ben could say anything else, Jay had pulled him out the door, locked it behind him and was leading him back towards the village pub.

“But won’t you lose custom?” he managed to venture as they were entering the small bar, all dark oak wood beams and velvet seats, a typical country pub that felt so comfortable already.

“Mate, the first thing you’ll learn about Bridhillarstrat is that no one really cares about opening times. If it’s open we’re happy. If it’s shut, we’ll come back later. Welcome to village life,” Jay explained as he ordered two pints and steered Ben through the pub to a table at the back of the room. 

The pint of local ale was surprisingly good and Ben relaxed for the first time in months, listening as Jay explained some of the village customs and pointed out some of the locals, talking about recent births and deaths and the latest funeral which had been the one Ben had seen as he drove into the village. It seemed like the start and end of life was the soul of the village, where everyone knew everyone else. It was so different to London, but quite nice. In fact, Ben was feeling so relaxed that the question bubbled out before he could stop it.

“Do you know anything about the history of the village? Maybe anything about my cottage?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Primrose cottage?” Jay queried, leaning backwards and fixing Ben with a stare. “It’s a pretty place, right?”

“Yeah, I meant more…” Ben stopped, took another longer drink but now he’d started he had to carry on. “More like, does it have a reputation for anything?”

“Like…” Jay asked, holding his hands out.

Ben swallowed, he’d got this far, so there was no backing out. “Like, being haunted?”

Jay gave him a look, but rather than judgemental, it seemed like he was listening and trying to understand. “I’ve not heard anything,” he said eventually. “Do you think it is, haunted, I mean?”

“No,” Ben hastened to say, “just I think I’ve seen figures hanging around and I keep on smelling woodsmoke….” he trailed off, realising how he was sounding. “Sorry. I guess that’s strange, right?”

Jay was looking at him still, but kindly. “You’ve just moved in, probably not used to things here. Maybe you're just tired? And old cottages trap smells. I know when I moved in to mine, it smelt musty for weeks. I had to clean everything ten times before it stopped. I’m probably not the best person to ask. Maybe someone who’s lived here for longer than me? Or failing that, you could ask at the police station.”

Ben saw the opportunity to change the subject, maybe he could still salvage something before he totally scared Jay off. “Police station?” he asked. “A bit strange to have one in a little village?”

Jay grinned. “It’s only small. There’s a large office in the next town over, and that’s only half an hour away, but they have a station here too. Only one cop but if they’re needed there’s a team that are dedicated to our area that come from Nerton’s station. The Detective Inspector lives here, actually, so he’s a local boy and always looks out for us. He usually organises the patrols so he can stay local, he knows all the people who live here. You’ll probably meet him soon enough, he’ll be popping round to check you’ve settled in ok.”

Ben almost choked on his drink, after everything that had happened in London, he was sure a visit from the local police force wouldn’t just be to check he was settling in alright, but he had no wish to share that particular thought with Jay. “I’ll look forward to seeing him,” he said dryly, “a silver fox with a posh car, right, if he’s a DI?”

Jay leaned back and grinned. “You’ll be surprised,” was all he said and wouldn’t say anything more, instead signalling for another pint each and settling down for a right gossip.

Ben actually was surprised to look at his watch and find an hour had passed quickly, chatting with Jay had been the highlight of the last few months of his life and that summed up his state of mind pretty well. They were discussing the local football team, giggling at the latest disastrous score, when a tall, bald man came over to the table and put both his hands on the surface, glaring at Jay.

“Hello, Jay, the shop is still closed,” he said, in an oily voice that made Ben glance over to Jay. He was sure he saw a grimace of distaste flicker across the other man's face, but he wiped it away quickly and gave a bland smile to the older man looming over them.

“Hello, Mr Hardcastle,” he said, “I do apologise, I was just having lunch with my friend. Are you in need of something urgently?”

“His lordship has sent me to get food for a dinner he’s hosting tonight before he goes on holiday, so yes, I would prefer you to open. Once you’ve finished your liquid lunch that is,” the man snapped.

“I’ll be right over, if you wait by the shop,” Jay said smoothly but once the man had left he slumped down in his chair. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m sorry Ben, I’d rather stay here with you but I have to go serve that piece of shit.”

“Who is he?” Ben asked as Jay drained his drink and reached for his coat.

“Danny Hardcastle. Butler to the local lord of the manor, Viscount Betram. Nasty pieces of work, both of them, but we have to be polite because of who the viscount is and who Hardcastle works for. I’d better go. Maybe we can do this again? We can sort something out when I drop your shopping off later on?”

“Sure,” Ben waved him off. “You’d better get going if he’s that awful. I’ll see you later?”

But once Jay had gone, he slumped back on the sofa, feeling even more lonely than he had earlier on. He missed having mates, maybe Jay would be the first person to like him for him. That gave him something to hold onto as his mood dropped.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, the months passed and Ben gradually grew used to village life. His cottage was lovely, despite the frequent whiffs of woodsmoke, and it was now starting to feel like home. He’d had a moment after that first pub visit, when he’d sat in his cottage and thought about why the name Danny Hardcastle seemed familiar. He’d never seen the man before, maybe his name was just something he’d heard in passing? He’d gotten so worried about it that he’d done some digging, asking people in London for information and had found out that Hardcastle was someone his father had worked with in the past. Ben had never had any dealings with him, but his reputation for double crossing Phil was well known. It had taken a few weeks for Ben to get over this information, he’d hidden away from the centre of the village and made sure he was keeping an eye out for the man because he didn’t want his past coming back to haunt him. He wasn’t even sure if Hardcastle knew who he was, Jay hadn’t introduced them after all. But Hardcastle seemed to have vanished and Ben didn’t see him again and soon, for better or worse, he pushed him to the back of his mind and focused on the nice things in the village.

He’d settled in well, finding a little part time job at a local car garage, meeting Jay for weekly pints at the pub. He’d even bought a table and chair set for his garden, despite having no one to sit at it with, he found that sitting outside in the fresh air, listening to the wildlife in the surrounding area did wonders for his mental health. It even meant he could conscientiously ignore the day that the local DI had called on him, because he was in his garden and didn’t hear the doorbell ring, at least that was his story and he was sticking to it. He had peered out from the back gate, seeing a silver grey car parked behind his, but he’d hidden from sight as the DI had walked back down the drive. All he’d been able to see was how tall he was, wearing a posh, well fitted suit and that minimal contact suited Ben quite well. A run in with the local police was the last thing he wanted.

When he’d gone back inside, he’d found a card pushed through his letterbox, with the name of the DI printed on it,  _ Callum Highway  _ and in pen underneath, in spiky writing,  _ my phone number just in case you need me _

He’d hidden the card in the hallway drawer because he’d never personally call a police officer, him, Ben Mitchell, really! And when he’d mentioned the call to Jay that week in the pub, he’d nodded.

“Yeah, Callum, he popped into the shop and said he’d called round but that you were probably out. It’s a shame you missed him. He’s a good bloke, actually. Maybe I could ask him to join us one day?”

Ben had panicked a little at that suggestion, but it turned out that DI Highway was busy working on cases and so couldn’t join them for their weekly outing anyway. He was pleased about that, he liked Jay, having a friend for him was something novel, and he enjoyed looking forward to their chats. He didn’t want a police officer changing the atmosphere. Even if he was just a local officer, the Mitchell name would surely be well known here. And Ben had moved far away to get away from that stigma and did not want it to become attached to him again.

He’d spoken to his mum a few times, on video call once he’d gotten his internet sorted and she’d offered to come down to see him and his house. He’d put her off, not wanting anyone from London to spoil the fragile peace he’d made here, not until he was settled enough for it not to affect him.

So he was enjoying life, even if it was a bit lonely, he was away from his past and from Phil and that had to count for so many positives it outweighed any negative feelings he had.

January was cold and windy, and the weekly pub chats with Jay died down as neither of them could stomach getting out to the pub from their warm houses. At least, Ben half heartedly agreed with Jay when he suggested they hold off until the weather was a bit better, because he knew he would miss their chats more than anything else. It was really the only thing keeping him sane.

One night, the wind was howling around the cottage, rattling the windows and hissing through the doors and for the first time in ages, Ben was spooked by the noises and shadows in the rooms. He spent his evening jumping at the slightest noise, heart pounding and not having anyone to speak to made things even worse. In the end, he took three sleeping pills early and slipped off to bed because at least then he could hide under the duvet and pretend things were fine.

A chemically induced sleep was never the best idea, but at least it meant that Ben woke up to a dry, if dull day. It was one of his days off work and he was so thankful because it took him longer than normal to get the energy to get up and out of bed and get showered. Blinking at himself in the mirror, he frowned a little. He was supposed to be weaning himself off sleeping tablets, not taking them to help with childish terrors. In the light of day, his thoughts from last night seemed silly. He decided a cup of coffee would wake himself up properly and so after getting dressed, he made his way downstairs to switch on the kettle.

He pulled the curtains back from the kitchen window whilst he was boiling the kettle, looking out onto a foggy, grey day. It was difficult to see down to the end of the garden but whether that was due to the mist or the lingering sedatives that were in his system was debatable. He rubbed his eyes and peered out, as something that he’d been unknowingly staring at came startling into focus. And he froze, dropping the spoon he’d been idly playing with.

A dark shape was hanging from one of the trees at the edge of his garden, what looked like a hooded body to his frightened eyes.

Ben looked away sharply, fingers gripping into the wood beneath them. “It’s not real, it’s not real,” he breathed over and over again, the only time in his life ever that he wanted to be seeing something that wasn’t there.

He closed his eyes, getting his breathing back under control and then looked up again.

The dark shape was still there.

Ben stared, open mouthed at the dark shape. There was definitely something there, he wasn’t seeing things. But now he had to actually deal with what looked like a body hanging from one of his trees. Maybe he was mistaken? Maybe it was a big birds nest or a plastic bag that had gotten caught in the branches? Before he could think too much, he unlocked the back door and strode out over the garden. The shape was in the wooded area just behind his garden but luckily the fence was low and it didn’t take much for him to climb over it. Up close, the shape seemed more ominous, the only sounds the creaking of the tree branch and the calling of birds in the trees. When he approached, he gasped and stood still, starting to tremble. Because his first thought was right, and hanging, swinging slowly from the branches in front of him, was a body.

There was no sign of life, no fighting or struggling, but the instinct was there to try to help, to see if the poor person was alive. He slowly reached out with a shaking hand, taking more times than he’d like to admit to get close and curl his fingers around a dangling wrist. He’d been hoping it was a sort of practical joke, maybe a shop dummy, but the minute his fingers closed around cold flesh he knew for sure. There was no helping the poor person.

There was a wild moment where he stood and looked up at the tree and thought about getting the body down and disposing of it without letting anyone know. After all, he was a Mitchell and although this had nothing to do with him, all it would take would be a quick search for Phil’s name to come up, for Ben’s own past demeanours to be looked at and he guessed he’d be a prime suspect. But common sense prevailed. He was innocent, someone had been killed and he had to let someone in authority know. With a last shuddery glance backwards, he climbed back over the fence and trudged back to the house. The police card was still in his hall drawer after all, and if this wasn’t an emergency, then nothing else would be.

Around half an hour later, there was a knock on the door and Ben jumped a mile from where he’d been sitting on a sofa, chewing at his thumbnail and refusing to look in the kitchen at all. Shaking his head at his own nerves, he opened the door to find two police officers standing outside. The one at the front held his hand out, “Detective Inspector Callum Highway,” he introduced himself as and despite the fact that he’d found a body, Ben couldn’t help realise that Jay was right, that he would be shocked when he saw the local DI. Instead of an old man, DI Highway was only a bit older than Ben himself, tall, with mesmerising blue eyes.

Ben took a quick glance at the ID badge that was being held out and shook the hand offered in silence, trying to ignore the shiver that went through his body at the slight touch, now was definitely not the time to realise that the local police man was hot. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” was all he said, allowing the two of them in. 

DI Highway gestured to the woman behind him. “This is DS Pearce. We were in the neighbourhood when you called, plus, if someone says they have a dead body hanging around then we tend to try to get there as quickly as we can.”

“Right,” Ben said, a little flustered by the vision of loveliness in front of him. “You’d better take a look at it then.” He led them into the kitchen and out into the garden. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to climb over the fence. You can walk around but it’s quite a long way and at least this is quicker.”

“I’m sorry,” DI Highway interrupted him, his voice quiet and gentle. “Where exactly are we going?”

Ben gave him a look, sure he was pulling his leg. “It’s right there, at the edge of the wood,” he snapped and turned around to point at where the body was hanging. “Oh....” The mist had burned away in the time it had taken the police to arrive and the day was now sunny and bright. And there was no body hanging in the tree.

Ben pushed a mug of tea over the kitchen table to DI Highway. He had been made to come back inside and sat down at the table with the concerned DI opposite him but so far they’d not said anything to each other. Officer Pearce had already left, presumably to look around outside or go back to the station following a wild goose chase but DI Highway had stayed and was currently wrapping his hands around the mug. 

“What happened,” he said in a rather too soft tone for Ben’s liking.

“I saw it, Detective Inspector,” he said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of his voice. “It was there, hanging in that damn tree.”

“Callum,” DI Highway said, “please, call me Callum. It was foggy this morning right, Mr Mitchell?”

“Better call me Ben,” he mumbled, trying to hide his head. “Yes, it was foggy. But I went down and looked at it and touched it. It was definitely there and definitely a body.”

Callum was looking at him, with an indecipherable look on his face. But it was obvious he’d decided Ben’s distress was genuine and he modulated his tone of voice accordingly.

“You touched it?” he clarified, drawing Ben’s attention back to him from looking out the window again. It had just dawned on him that he’d been sleeping, getting ready during the morning when somebody had been dying at the bottom of his garden and he was starting to feel the panic building in his stomach.

“Yes,” he said, trying to focus on Callum. “He was cold to the touch, had been dead for a while, I think.”

“It was definitely a man?” Callum asked and despite the fact Ben knew he was just doing his job he took this as a personal attack.

“Yes, it was a man. I couldn’t see his face, it was covered by a hood. But it was a man's hand and a man's wrist, and I would guess at an older man judging by the skin.”

“And after you touched him?”

“I couldn’t get him down so I came and called you lot,” Ben explained with a sigh, because despite the lovely face on the DI, it was clear he didn’t believe what Ben was saying.

“Right, so about an hour since you found him then? And in that time he managed to go walking? Did you hear anything in that time? Or before you found him?” Callum enquired, like he was merely asking about the weather.

Ben couldn’t help the sheepish look that must have come over his face. “I couldn’t face looking at it, so I sat in the living room. I’d taken some sleeping pills last night so I’d slept late and was in the shower before coming down so I heard nothing.” He looked up at Callum’s face and was sure he was just humouring him. “You do believe me, right?”

“It’s just… when someone’s dead they tend to stay dead and not just walk off,” Callum said slowly. “Maybe you weren’t fully awake after taking the sleeping pills? We’ve had worse call outs, you know.”

He was being perfectly polite and that stung Ben more than he wanted to admit. He knew how it sounded, but he was so convinced he was correct. “I saw it,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Ok, well, I’ll keep an eye out for anybody that’s been reported missing,” Callum drained the last of his tea

“Is that it?” Ben demanded, knowing he was being a little git but refusing to let go.

Callum gave him another look, one that seemed to reach inside Ben’s very soul. “I’ll go and check it out again if you like,” he offered and Ben knew it was more for him than for any police investigation. He was obviously not being believed. Callum shrugged his jacket back on and then made his way down to the bottom of the garden, leaving Ben to sit and watch out of his kitchen window.

  
  


Callum was sure that the man, Ben, had imagined the fact that they’d been a body hanging from a tree in the back of the garden. Dark, foggy, a dependency on drugs, all lead to one conclusion, he’d been mistaken. Enough to scare him, to be honest, and he obviously believed it to be true, but Callum couldn’t imagine it being anything but a mistake. It was a shame, Ben was obviously in a bit of a state, but underneath it had been a glimpse of someone Callum would have liked to have gotten to know. He’d not imagined the way Ben had shivered when they shook hands, or the way Lola had winked at him when his back was turned. 

The one good thing about it being a false alarm was the fact that he would have much less paperwork to deal with back in the office.

Ben was still watching him from the kitchen window so he dutifully climbed over the fence at the bottom of the garden and took a good look around the site of the tree. The grass was trampled a bit, but Ben had admitted he’d been down and touched the body, so maybe it was all from him? It was impossible to tell otherwise. He pursed his lips as he stared at the tree, at the high, broken off branch that the body had been hanging from apparently. With a quick look backwards at the kitchen, he hoisted himself up into the tree. The bark around the edge of the branch had been rubbed away, but that was the only indication of anything untoward. He wiped his hands off on his trousers, frowning a little. It could have been a rope, it could support what Ben was saying, or it could have been a child’s swing or anything. There was no evidence of anything. He got out his phone and made a voice memo  _ check on Ben Mitchell’s background  _ to remind himself when he got back to the station. It wouldn’t hurt to see what Ben had gotten up to before moving out here, after all, see what they were dealing with.

He considered going the long way around and avoiding the house, but he could still see Ben in the window and the memory of those blue eyes, the hidden depths to that beautiful face that showed that even if he was in a low mood now, he’d been a real joker at some point, and the way he’d looked in the maroon hoody made Callum make his way back up to the house.

He left his phone number, his personal one this time, with a sceptical Ben, convincing himself it was just in case he found anything else suspicious and then made his leave. If he snuck one last look backwards as he walked down the drive, he was sure Ben didn’t see him. He was intrigued, that much was obvious, but whether that was from a police point of view or a personal interest was difficult to pin down.

On his way back to the little station in the village, where he’d meet Lola and then they could drive back to their headquarters, he decided on a whim to call into the shop. He knew Jay and Ben had struck up a friendship, he’d been invited to drink with them a few times but he’d turned them down every time so far, even if now he was ridiculously thinking of going to the next one to help with his interest in Ben. However, maybe Jay could shed some light on the new boy in the village?

“Hey,” he greeted Jay as he walked in.

“Hi, Cal,” Jay beamed. “You ok? Need anything? Chocolate, water, mints?”

“Just some info, if you have it,” Callum admitted, leaning on the desk. “I just wondered if you knew anything about Ben Mitchell’s background?”

Jay gave him a look. “You know I don’t talk about my friends, Officer Highway,” he said.

“Yeah, I do, but this is important,” Callum didn’t want to say much, police confidentiality and all that stopped him from saying what they’d been up to, but he was worried. “Maybe you should ask him for a drink? He may need a friendly face at this moment in time.”

“Is everything ok?” Jay asked, now anxious. “I know you can’t say much but…”

Callum shrugged a little, not wanting to commit to anything. “Just… let him know you’re there for him if he needs you, right?” Somehow, Ben had gotten into his head and he was worried about the man he’d left behind at the cottage.

“You can come for a drink too,” Jay offered but Callum shook his head.

“Think I’d be better staying away, at least for a while. Can’t mix business and pleasure, after all. Maybe later on though?”

Leaving Jay alone, Callum went back into the police station, thinking hard. He was sure Jay knew more than he was letting on, but he also knew that he wouldn’t betray a friend's trust. He was a DI, however, he had ways of checking things out himself.

Lola was in the station already, on the computer and she looked up as he came in. “No one’s been reported missing recently,” she greeted him with. “I’ve looked here and in Nerton and in the surrounding villages and no one is unaccounted for.”

“If whoever it was died just this morning, maybe they haven’t been missed yet?” Callum suggested, sitting down and running a hand over his face.

“You think he was telling the truth?” Lola asked, sitting back in her chair and fixing Callum with a shrewd look.

“Benefit of the doubt?” he said, holding his hands out.

Lola snorted. “He’s been on the pills. Makes you a bit fizzy, right? Bet he imagined the whole thing.”

“But he touched it…” Callum started but was interrupted by Lola rolling her eyes.

“Yeah but there’s one thing missing. With a murder or a suicide, there’s usually a body, boss.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Callum conceded. “But let’s just do a quick check up, ok, so run a full background check on Ben Mitchell for me, please.”

A few hours later, Callum was flicking through the local newspapers, checking up on missing persons when Lola slid some papers across the table to him. She’d just finished on the phone. “Background check through, Sir,” she said.

He picked up the papers slowly. “Go on then,” he encouraged her.

“Ben Mitchell, part of the notorious Mitchell family from Walford, London. Patriach Phil is a local gangster, running the crime scene. Ben was involved heavily in crime. Went to jail when he was younger for manslaughter, did things for Phil, got involved in a lot of stuff by the looks of things.”

Callum couldn’t help the flare of disappointment in his belly at the news. So that explained why Ben had actually gone and touched the body, maybe he was so accustomed to things like that it was the norm. He flicked through the papers and frowned a little at the end pages. “Nothing on him for the last six months, though, Lo. What happened?”

Lola shrugged, writing it off, but Callum was intrigued. Something had happened to make Ben move down here, maybe there was more to this than just a gangster's son. He couldn’t get the way Ben had looked out of his mind. He was sure he had been startled by the find. “Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on, Sir?” Lola suggested. “Or more likely, maybe he did it and then hid the body?”

Callum shook his head. “If he’s as bad as this, he wouldn’t have even called us if he’d done it. There’s more to this than meets the eye, Lola. And I plan to get to the bottom of it.”

And if that meant he would have to spend more time getting to understand the enigmatic Ben Mitchell, that was a hardship he’d be willing to take on.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the lack of any findings from his initial searching, Callum found himself driving through the village after work deep in thought. Before he was even aware, he realised he had made a detour on the way to his own flat and was driving past Primrose Cottage. The lights were switched on behind thick curtains and he hesitated, before pulling up on the drive behind Ben’s car and striding to the door. Maybe it would be best to get someone nameless and faceless to call, to say they weren’t going to follow up anymore, but somehow, Ben had gotten inside his head and he felt he owed him a visit. Besides, if he was seeing things, maybe he needed help? And not to mention that Callum’s police brain was screaming at him to find out what Ben had been up to these last six months, why he’d been under the radar, and why he was here in Bridhillarstrat instead of in London.

He knocked on the door and was woefully unprepared for the way his heart stuttered when Ben opened the door. He was dressed casually, still in a maroon hoody and joggers, looking so soft that Callum could barely believe he was the son of Phil Mitchell. His face lit up when he saw Callum outside his door. “Any leads?” he asked eagerly.

“Sorry, no,” Callum, said a little awkwardly, rubbing a hand over his face. “No one’s been reported missing, there’s been no sign of foul play. We’re standing down.”

“But I saw him!” Ben snapped and his face fell.

“I know you think you saw him…” Callum started but was stopped by an irate Ben, holding a finger out at him.

“So my word isn’t enough,” he said coldly. “He was there, I saw him. I touched him!”

“With your father…” was all Callum managed to get out before Ben literally snarled at him, taking him aback so much he stepped backwards away from the door.

“I see you did your homework, DI Highway. I am not my father. I do not want to be my father, why else would I move here, away from him? I had nothing to do with the body. And if you think I did, you can just go away and never see me again!”

Despite the ridiculous irony of the statement, if Ben really was a suspect, he’d be seeing a lot of Callum after all, Callum stood firm. “I don’t think you did anything, Ben. You’re convinced you saw something. I don’t know what happened in London, with your dad and why you’re here, but if you’re relying on pills to sleep, maybe you’re not in the best frame of mind? Maybe you imagined the whole thing. I found nothing when I was there earlier. I’m sorry.”

Ben seemed to deflate as he stared at Callum. “I’m sorry,” he apologised and held up his hands as Callum tried to reason with him. “I’m a bit touchy about my father. I’m trying, I really am. But it was there. I saw it, I touched it. It was really there. I swear it. Someone’s been murdered in the woods and you’re not even interested in the fact that there’s a crime scene there and someone’s getting away with it. Trust me, I know murders.”

Callum found a wry smile dashing across his face at that statement, and Ben rather sheepishly returned it, obviously cottoning on to how it sounded. But Callum was finding it harder to stay firm in the face of Ben’s resolute conviction and the soft way he was gazing upwards made him waver even more.

“Ok, ok, fine,” he eventually gave in. “I guess I could arrange a CSI team to come out and do a proper search, bring some cadaver dogs too. I just hope the budget stretches enough to cover the cost.”

“Better than having someone’s murder on your conscience ,” Ben pointed out.

Callum groaned a little. “I know, you’re right. But you’d better hope we find something. Or I’ll probably be hauled over the coals for wasting time and money.”

“I would have thought it would be better to not find anything,” Ben said with a shrug, but his eyes were warm as he stared at Callum. At his questioning stare, he carried on. “If you find something, it’s a murder enquiry right? If you don’t, it just means I’m crazy. Surely that’s easier for you?”

Callum found himself smiling gently at the man in front of him. “Well, for your sake, I hope we do find something. Let you know you’re not crazy.”

  
  


The next morning, Ben cracked open the kitchen curtains to see a group of men, wearing white overalls, poking around in the wood at the bottom of his garden. He guessed that Callum had kept his word, he’d been quite sure he was going to be fobbed off to be honest. It was nice that Callum had meant what he’d said. 

The team had put up an awning over the place where Ben had indicated the body was and he hoped that despite the drizzle that had started, there would be traces of whatever he’d seen there. He’d been tempted to search to see what happened to the body following a murder but guessed that if his internet history was looked at, that would be a big red arrow over his head. With his link to Phil Mitchell anyway, adding anything to the fire would have been pure idiocy, even for him.

Callum wasn’t there, at least, Ben couldn’t see him, even if he had been looking out for him. Which he wasn’t, obviously. He was a Mitchell, there was no way a police officer would ever become a friend. Even if he was bloody gorgeous and seemed sweet to boot.

He shook his head and decided that actually leaving the house was for the best, otherwise he’d probably be sought upon for cups of tea and he’d quite possibly spend all day staring at the men working and wondering when a certain DI would join them. So after he’d had breakfast, he ended up wandering aimlessly into the village centre, with a vague idea to see if Jay was around.

The shop was open and Jay was filling up shelves when he popped his head round. “Alright, mate!” he was greeted with. “Heard about what’s going on at your place. What a nightmare!”

“How’d you hear?” Ben demanaded, wondering if Callum had blabbed to anyone and everyone.

Jay shrugged. “It’s a little village. Gossip gets around fast, you know. I’ve had so many people in here talking about whether you’d found a body, or the Loch Ness monster, or God. It’s been quite enlightening!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Ben said, not particularly happy that he was the source of gossip within the little village. 

Jay peered up at him. “Still worrying about if your house is haunted?” he asked. “Cos if you did find a body, I’d bet you’re a little wary now.” Ben elected to say nothing but it must have been written over his face because Jay stood up. “I thought about who we could ask, someone who knows about the village and would know things about your cottage. Come on!” and he swept them both out of the shop.

He pulled Ben across the square and around the side of the church to the estate agents, which was thankfully empty except for a lady working behind the desk. Jay’s smile when they entered said volumes. “Honey, hi,” he said, warmly. “Don’t know if you know Ben? We’ve got some questions for you, if that’s ok?”

Ben shook Honey’s hand, wondering if he’d spoken to her at all when he’d been buying the cottage. “It’s about Primrose Cottage, you sold it to me a few months ago.”

“Ah, yes,” Honey smiled at them both as she sat back down. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Ben hastened to say, not wanting to make any bad impression just in case a certain tall detective Inspector decided to start asking questions. “Not exactly. I was just interested in the history of the cottage. Wondered if you knew anything about it before I moved in, who lived in it before, that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the sort of information I can give out,” Honey said with a frown.

But Jay sent her a winning smile, leaning slightly forward, “come on Honey, I know you can tell us. You’re the only one I trust,” he said and Ben rolled his eyes at the blatant flirting.

Honey seemed flattered though and leant back in her chair, thinking hard. “I think it had been empty for about a year before you moved in, and even then before that, the owners only stayed for a short amount of time.”

“Oh,” Ben said, wondering if maybe they had witnessed any of the strange things he’d seen as well. “Any idea of why they left?”

Honey glared at both of them but then seemed to give in. “Good job I’m not rushed off my feet, isn’t it? We can look on the computer, Jay, why don’t you pop out and buy us a coffee each?”

Jay slapped Ben on the back on the way out, and left alone with Honey, Ben pulled up a chair next to her and watched as she tapped into the files on the office computer. “Ah, here it is, Primrose Cottage,” she mused as she tapped her fingers on the desk. “Yeah, it had been empty for 10 months before you bought it. Last owners had to relocate to London for a new job. They’d just lowered the price when you snapped it up. Got a good bargain there,” and she sent a sideways glance to Ben. Luckily she was distracted from whatever else she was going to add to that statement by Jay returning with three steaming takeaway cups of coffee.

“Yeah, I guess I did get a bargain,” Ben said quietly, taking a sip from his coffee and the realisation that actually the little coffee shop was top quality if this was any indication was a nice surprise. 

Honey carrried on looking through the records. “Oh, I remember dealing with the couple that had the cottage before them actually, now I’ve seen this again. That’s strange, they were only in there for four months. And…” she suddenly stopped tapping away and gave Ben a curious look. “This is weird. The cottage has changed hands numerous times over the last decade, the longest anyone has stayed has been 6 months. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Ben said, non committedly even though his heart was starting to pound at the thought of all those people moving in and then moving straight back out. “It’s nice, small and pretty. So, what about before those people? Who had it first?”

“I don’t know,” Honey admitted. “Our records don’t show anything before that. Maybe the original sale was handled elsewhere?”

Ben pursed his lips and was about to admit defeat when Jay leant foreword. “What about if it was sold under a different name?” he suggested. “It may not have been Primrose Cottage all its life?”

“Good idea,” Honey said and the smile Jay gave her made Ben’s teeth hurt with how saccharine it was. “Where exactly is the cottage?”

Ben tried to describe where it was but he realised he didn’t even know a road name, just the cottage. Honey rolled her eyes. “It’s on Gallows Lane,” she said absently, searching again, but both her and Jay stopped and stared as Ben spat out the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken.

“What?” he coughed, face red and heart pounding because she surely hadn’t said what he thought she’d said?

Jay handed him a tissue, face worried and Honey looked anxiously up. “It’s not what it sounds like,” she said, trying to be comforting. “It’s Old English, like most of the names around here, gal-holing, probably.”

“And that means what?” Ben asked, after he’d wiped the spots of coffee off the desk.

“Holing means hollow, so like Lane Lane. And the gal could either mean bitter or gay. Like happy. So you live on Happy Lane,” Honey explained.

There was a silence as she carried on searching and Jay took the empty coffee cups off them with a sympathetic smile to bin them. Honey suddenly exclaimed and turned the computer screen around so they could both see. “Look,” she said. “I’ve found an old map of the village from the early 1900’s. There’s Gallows Lane and there’s your cottage, Ben.”

Ben moved closer and peered at the square representing his cottage. “Albert’s Cottage,” he read out loud. “Well. Who was Albert?”

“No idea,” Honey admitted, “but I can look for you if you like?”

“Or we could invite Callum out for drinks and ask him to look at the police databases? There’s loads of stuff in there,” Jay suggested with a wicked wink at Ben.

“I don’t think I’m Callum’s favourite person,” Ben said but Jay was resolute.

“Nonsense. Give him a few pints and he’ll be anyone’s best friend.” he said firmly and then propelled Ben out of the office. “Thanks for your help, Honey, it’s much appreciated,” he called backwards.

Outside, Ben turned to face him. “Do you really think Callum would look for information? I mean, I did find a missing dead body and cause him lots of trouble. I’m sure he doesn’t want to spend time with me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jay said, giving Ben a close look. “You like him, right? He’s a good guy, he’ll want to help you I'm sure.”

“Fine,” Ben huffed. “Tonight maybe? Whilst I still want to ask and before he thinks I’m a total freak.”

“I’ll sort it out,” Jay promised with a grin and waved as he went back to work.

Ben made sure he was at the pub early that evening, not wanting to walk in when Callum was already there. Despite Jay’s words, he was sure that Callum thought he was strange, seeing dead bodies that then vanished, plus he’d obviously researched his past and must know what he was running away from. Ben wasn’t sure how they’d ever be able to get on.

Jay arrived next, waving at Ben and collecting three pints and then it wasn’t too long before Callum turned up, in casual clothes instead of his DI suit. He loped across the bar and sat down opposite Ben, reaching for a pint and pushing his hair back. “God, I’m glad of this,” he said with a smile that seemed to make his face light up and his eyes crinkle.

“Bad day?” Jay asked and Ben had to hide his wince, because he knew what Callum had been up to. Callum however, seemed unfazed and didn’t bat an eyelid or say anything to Ben about the search.

“Yeah, well, you know what it can be like around here. Nothing happens for months and then everything seems to go on at the same time. You know I can’t say anything, Jay, so don’t ask!” and he sent a grin at a rather bewildered Ben.

It took a while to loosen up, but before long the three of them were chatting, about everything under the sun, Callum’s job, what Ben thought of the village, Jay’s crush on Honey which Ben found out was actually common knowledge. Before he'd even realised, it was getting late and he’d not even asked Callum to look at his house's past. There was part of him that didn’t want to, because what he’d found out that night was that Callum was lovely, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, gorgeous, exactly the type of man Ben liked. So far out of his league, with his past, but he seemed to genuinely like talking to Ben, seemed to be interested in him and that was so nice he didn’t want to rock the boat.

But Jay had other ideas. “Ben’s got something to ask you,” he said to Callum and after finishing his last pint, he ordered another two in for them and left them alone, obviously thinking it would be easier to ask if he was out of the way.

Callum tipped his pint up and took a long swallow, wiping his lip afterwards. “Go on then,” he said encouragingly, “what do you want to ask?”

“It’s going to sound weird,” Ben said, knowing just how what he was going to ask would come across.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Look, what I do in my job and what I do out of it are two different things. You can ask me for help, I don’t mind, I’d like to do anything I can. I think you need someone in your corner, I’ll do that for you. I want to,” he said and the tone of his voice was so sincere it made Ben blink and look away. “Although, if you ask me for details of any murders or missing local people I’ll have to take that farther,” he added, but the wink he gave Ben let him know he was only teasing.

“You gonna arrest me?” Ben blurted out before his brain could engage with his mouth, winking back at a pink Callum. “Cos I’ve always imagined what it would be like to be handcuffed by a DI. Only ever had lowly coppers before.”

There was a silence where Ben turned as red as Callum was, why in earth had he decided to start flirting? But Callum laughed, quite possibly the nicest sound Ben had heard in a long time and ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “Maybe if you're particularly nice,” he said and Ben had to blink because that sounded a little like Callum was flirting back with him and that surely couldn’t be the case.

The silence was companionable as they both drank again, eyes lingering on each other over the table and then Callum leaned forward. “Come on, Ben, I won’t think you're strange or weird. You can ask me anything.”

“I want to know who originally owned my cottage,” Ben eventually said. “It used to be called Albert’s Cottage, probably named after the original owner. But no one knows anything and Jay suggested you may be able to find out.”

“Is this because of what you found?” Callum asked gently and Ben found that he wanted to tell him everything, he had exactly the sort of face a policeman needed to get people to talk. Before he was really aware, he’d told Callum everything, about the figures and the smell and the sleeping pills and the body. Callum frowned as he spoke but let him talk, and only after he’d finished he moved his hand forward so their fingers were just touching.

“You think this Albert has been haunting your cottage?” he asked.

Ben was so aware of that one tiny point of contact he almost lost his train of thought. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it would make me feel better knowing something about him, rather than just thinking I’m imagining things. I’m scared of what or who my dad might send after me. If I’m seeing figures around, maybe one day it will be real and it’ll be too late for me to do anything.”

Callum exhaled, long and slow. “I can help with your dad,” he offered. “And you have my phone number, you can call me whenever you need me. And yes, I’ll see if I can find out anything about Albert. Give me a few days, right?”

“Thank you,” Ben said softly, their fingers still touching and he could feel how his heart was racing now. “Why though? Why would you do this for me?”

Callum tilted his head to one side. “Why do you think?” 


	4. Chapter 4

Callum spent the next few days looking for any information about the man, Albert, who lived in Ben’s cottage. They were waiting for the forensic results from the CSI team and things had gone quiet on all fronts. There were still no missing people reported, and it was only Callum’s gut instinct that still made him trust Ben’s story. There was something about him, something vulnerable but with a true hint of steel underneath, that attracted Callum beyond just his job. That was why he couldn’t say no to helping in any way, shape or form that was needed, and if that included looking at historical police databases, he could justify it as looking into the recent case at Primrose Cottage. 

He’d lived all his life in Bridhillarstrat and knew many of the people around and figured that someone somewhere would have to know something about the cottage. He called in to see the pub landlord, Mick, one of his oldest and dearest friends and they spent a whole evening looking over old records that Callum had found, only to end up discovering something that Callum had not wanted to find. Maybe there was more to Ben’s imaginings than he’d originally thought.

After work that evening he decided he had to go and call on Ben, after all, he’d promised him he’d look into the history of the cottage. His house was on the way home, more or less, and so he pulled up onto the drive and took a few deep breaths before getting the courage to knock on the door. It was opened, quickly, by Ben, looking particularly lovely that night. He smiled when he saw Callum on his doorstep. “Cup of tea?” he offered, allowing Callum to come inside.

They sat in the kitchen, whilst Ben pottered around making a cup of tea for both of them. Callum wanted to say something, but was having trouble finding the words to start, because he’d realised Ben lived here and what he was going to say may make things worse for him. “Sorry for calling round,” he eventually said, stirring his tea so he didn’t have to look up at Ben. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“You’ve found something,” Ben said, and Callum raised his eyes to meet the cool blue ones apprising him carefully. “Police or personal?” he asked.

“Nothing yet about the body,” Callum admitted, “but I’ve found Albert.”

“You’re very efficient,” Ben joked, but his face fell as he saw the look that must have been on Callum’s own.

“There was nothing I could find in the databases but my mate, Mick, the pub landlord, his family have been here for yonks, never moved away. We looked through lots of things and he remembered hearing about the story of Albert, from his grandfather. That narrowed our search down and we could find the linked article in the police database.”

“What story?” Ben asked, with narrowed eyes.

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?” Callum hesitated, and he knew his face had a small frown on it. He liked Ben, he didn’t want him to move away, but what he had to say wasn’t particularly pleasant. “It’s a bit grim.”

“Go on,” Ben said. “Just get it out, please. I’d rather know.”

“So, it seems like the main chimney got blocked somehow, lack of cleaning or a big birds nest or something. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning in his bed, in the master bedroom. His sister came in one morning when he hadn't gone to church and found him.”

“Accidental death?” Ben’s head shot up and he reached out for Callum’s arm. “Nothing untoward?”

Callum knew exactly where his thoughts were heading. “No, it was all in the police and the autopsy report. Once it had all been sorted out, there was a massive survey done and they found the chimney was a mess, all cracked and broken. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before. They took out the fireplace in the bedroom and gutted the sitting room, made a new one with a new wood burner stove, which is what you’ve still got, I believe.”

“Thank god,” Ben breathed and he looked relieved, despite the fact that someone had died in the very room he was now sleeping in. “I thought…”

Callum had to fight back the urge to take his hand or pull him into a hug. There was something so lovely about him that he just couldn’t resist, even if he was still actively involved in a police case involving Ben. “You ok?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah, it’ll take more than an old man to scare me off,” Ben said and he seemed happier than before, his face lighting up with a smile he bestowed upon a suddenly besotted Callum. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done. I mean it, I’ve never had anyone do this sort of thing for me before without wanting anything in return.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Callum said, vowing silently that he would do whatever he could to get that look and smile back onto Ben’s face as often as he could. “So, what are you going to do, have the place exorcised or something? I know the vicar, could get you a good deal.”

Ben laughed, his face becoming open and lovely and making him look so young. “No, I’m not really into that mumble jumble stuff,” he admitted. “Besides, it’s not like Albert’s ever been a nuisance, it would be a shame to let him go. I have another idea actually, I never really wanted to live in a cottage named after a flower, after all. Maybe I’ll change the name back.”

Ben was still on Callum’s mind the following day. After he’d shared the news, they’d retired into the sitting room and spent a very happy evening watching a film together. Callum knew he should have left, but Ben had him captivated. He’d never felt like this about anyone before and he was finding it hard pressed to forget about the way he’d looked up at Callum, the smiles on his lovely face, the way his eyes had shone in the dim light of his sitting room. He had it bad.

Today was the day that the forensic results from the CSI team were due and he was sitting at his desk in the main police station in Nerton, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the news. One of his team of officers brought the manilla folder in and slid it over the desk, leaving him alone to look through it. He thumbed through it with a frown on his face. The report was inconclusive. There was no evidence of bodily fluids found anywhere in the vicinity, but there had been a rope tied around the tree branch, recently if the fibres found indicated correctly. And add to that that there was evidence that the rope had been tied very tightly, or had a massive weight dangling from it. It seemed to collaborate Ben’s story, without having any evidence of a body still. It was all a mess, to be honest, because all he was going on was his gut instinct that Ben was correct, and now he’d have to justify that to his bosses.

He steepled his fingers and pressed them into his eyes, trying to think of what his next steps would be, when a knock came at his office door and he looked up to see Lola. She’d been in London that morning, at a police conference on another case they’d been working on, and had promised to fill him in on her return. One of the main reasons for her going was that it had been too good a chance to miss up on - he’d found out where Ben had come from in London and finding it was relatively close to the conference venue, he had requested Lola call there on the way home. The look on her face showed she had things she wanted to discuss with him. 

“Good conference?” he asked, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

The best thing about Lola was she understood him, they’d been working together for a long time and she’d been there through his promotion. She’d been the first person he wanted on his team, he trusted her judgement more than anyone else. She waved off the half arsed question and leant her elbows on the desk. “So I went to his home, his work, talked to neighbours,” she said, cutting straight to the chase. “No one would say anything, they’re too scared of Phil Mitchell. They wouldn’t say anything about what he’d gotten up to there or why he’d left.”

“Great,” Callum threw his head back, no further on than before.

“Wait!” Lola stopped him, hand open. “I found his mum’s cafe. She still works there, you know, and she was rather more open once I’d charmed her into talking to me. Kathy, she’s called. Loves him a lot but is aware of all the dodgy things he’s gotten up to. Robbery, money laundering, manslaughter, theres a massive list, Callum. But she says he’s changed, made good on his life and was a different person now to when he was younger. She said Phil had involved him in some sort of dodgy job, he’d almost gotten shot and had some sort of epiphany about six months ago. Realised he didn’t want to be part of that world anymore. Phil was quite awful about it, I think, and he decided to move away and cut everyone out of his old life to start afresh. His mum never said, but I think he’s been struggling, mentally, with everything that happened.”

“No surprise, really,” Callum said softly, he’d researched Phil Mitchell and was well aware of what he could do to anyone that crossed him. Maybe he’d not given Ben enough credit for his bravery. 

Ben was having lunch when there was a frantic knocking on his front door and he ran to open it with a sandwich in his hand. Safe to say, he was not expecting the person who was standing on his doorstep.

“What have you been up to!” was the way his mum greeted him. “Care to tell me why I had a self righteous police woman asking questions about you this morning in the cafe?”

“Hi, mum, nice to see you, why don’t you come in,” Ben rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Kathy into the cottage. He sat her in the living room and brought in a mug of tea before perching on the other sofa and answering her question. “What do you think I’ve been up to? I’ve only been here a few months! Do you really think I’ve cracked already and bludgeoned the postman to death?”

“No of course not,” Kathy said but then she looked up from her mug. “You haven’t, have you?”

“No, mother,” Ben sighed. “All rural postal workers are present and accounted for. Tell me about the police woman who visited you? Did she have very blonde hair by any chance?”

At Kathy’s nod, he sighed. Obviously the tenuous relationship he had been developing with Callum didn’t stretch to not getting his work involved in Ben’s past. “I know who she is. Mum, can I tell you something and you won’t think I’m crazy? Something has happened.”

It was a relief to tell someone the whole thing, who wasn’t judging him but rather listening and understanding what he was saying and going through. It made Ben’s stomach feel a lot lighter when he’d finished and Kathy had gestured for him to sit next to her and took his hands. “Are the police taking it seriously?” she asked, all concern and worry and for the first time in months Ben welcomed the mothering on offer, god knows he needed someone to just believe in him.

He nodded a little hesitantly. “The DI in charge, Callum Highway, he’s been really professional about the whole thing, listened to me, tried to help, but I can tell he doesn’t really believe in me. Who would, to be honest? I am still a Mitchell after all. I keep on waiting for him to come and arrest me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kathy snorted. “If he did come and try to arrest you on flimsy grounds I would let him know not to mess with me and my boys.”

“Thanks, mum,” Ben let a half smile slide onto his face and faced Kathy anxiously. “You believe me, right?”

“Ben. If you say it was real and you saw it then yes, I do believe you. So these damn police need to pull their fingers out and get on with finding the body and the murderer. You want me to pop into the station and tell this Highway Inspector guy that?”

“Mum!” Ben let go of her hands, his face flaming. “No! I do not want you to go and speak to Call…. to DI Highway. Leave it to me. Please.”

Kathy gave him a searching, knowing look. “Oh, it’s like that is it,” she said, despite Ben’s splutter. “Come on, make me lunch and you can tell me all about the village life and the villagers you’ve met. Including the DI please.”

They had a lovely lunch, sitting and discussing the friends Ben had made in the village and how his job was going, and it was only after an hour had passed that Kathy made to leave to get home for the after work rush in the cafe. Whilst she was putting on her coat in the hall, Ben caught a whiff of woodsmoke again and remembered what he’d been planning on asking. “Can you smell that?”

Kathy stopped, arms half in her coat and sniffed loudly. “Smell what? There’s nothing different here.”

Ben took another deep breath, checking he could still smell it and then manoeuvred Kathy over to where he was standing. “I don’t want to prompt you. Can you smell it now?”

Kathy gave him a concerned look and shook her head. “What?”

“Woodsmoke,” Ben admitted, a little disappointed. He looked up at his mum. “It’s nothing. I can just keep on smelling it, every now and then. Wondered if anyone else could too.”

Kathy sniffed again. “No, I’m sorry, honey. But this is an old cottage, it’s probably sunk into all the old beams.”

But she did turn around on the doorstep. “Funny though, when I popped to the loo earlier, I was sure I smelt something. Not woodsmoke, though, like someone was smoking a pipe. My grandad used to do it when I was younger, took me right back. Must have been someone outside though, unless you’ve taken up pipe smoking now you’re a country boy and all?”

“Not likely,” Ben snorted. “Can you imagine what I’d look like, all tweed jackets and trousers and a pipe in my mouth? I’d be laughed out of London.”

“Maybe this Callum would like it,” Kathy suggested with a knowing smile as she waved her goodbyes, leaving a rather startled Ben standing in the doorway until her car had pulled out of sight.

  
  


Ben couldn’t settle back down, after the conversation with his mum, her words running through his head on loop. He’d never been known for his self control when annoyed, and so that was probably why he found himself skulking around outside the police station in the late afternoon. He knew Callum usually popped in to the village station, regardless of what he’d been doing in town that day, on his way home after a shift. And he knew from their chats earlier that this week he was on days, not nights, so he would be coming out relatively soon. Ben was determined to have it out with him. It was one thing not believing him, but a completely different thing to go and actually annoy his mother.

His hunch was right, as about half an hour after he’d gotten into the village, Callum came walking out of the station, locking it behind him and then coming across the square. It was easy for Ben to step out of the shadows, seeing the way Callum smiled as he saw him and raised a hand to wave.

“Hey, Ben,” he called as he came closer, but his smile faltered as he saw the look on Ben’s face.

“Did you enjoy finding out about my past?” Ben said, pointedly not smiling as he looked at Callum. “Because asking my mother, hassling her in her cafe, was so not cool, DI Highway.”

Callum winced a little at that. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I needed to know, to check out what you had gotten up to. And you’d not told me why you moved here so I did what I normally do, I’m a policeman after all.”

“I thought we were friends! You could have asked me!” Ben snapped and saw the way Callum’s face fell. He gave a snort, turned on his heel to leave but was stopped by the soft touch of Callum’s hand on his arm.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. Really, I am. I should have asked you. I just…” Callum started and then he set his shoulders. “No, no excuses. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Ben. Please, forgive me?”

Ben took a deep breath, conflicted in his desire to be angry and the want to be friends with this infuriating man. In the end, he demanded the answer to something different, leaving his feelings to be dealt with at a later date. “Have you found anything out, from the investigating team, I mean?”

“No,” Callum’s eyes were soft as he gazed on Ben. “I have to close the investigation, Ben, I’m so sorry.”

“What? You can’t!”

“I’ve spent too much time and too much money on it as it is. There’s no body, no evidence. I just can’t put any more resources into it. I tried, Ben, I really did.” Callum genuinely looked like he was remorseful, but that didn’t help Ben’s mood at all.

“But I saw it! Does that not count for anything at all?”

Callum bit his lip. He knew he’d gone above and beyond for such a flimsy case anyway, swayed by Ben’s insistence and the want to believe him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I tried, I took your allegations very seriously, but there’s no body, no motive, no missing person…. I can’t do anything more. I even had a dog team search the woods. Nothing’s been found. Not even a dead bird or squirrel.”

Ben stared at him for a few seconds, eyes hurt. Deep down inside, he knew Callum was probably right, but that didn’t help the fact that someone was getting away with murder. 

“The file will stay open,” Callum offered, low and quiet. “If someone gets reported as missing, we can cross reference it against what you saw.”

Ben sagged, his fight finally gone. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. Then his eyes lit upon where they were standing, in the square opposite the church and an idea flashed into his brain. “Wait. If you were planning a murder and you didn’t want the body to be found ever, where would the best place be to hide it? Where would it never be found? Like, if you want to hide a tree, the best place is in a wood, right…”

Callum followed his gaze and then stopped still with a look of horror. “No. No, that would never happen. Ben.”

“Think about it, it would be the perfect place to hide a body,” Ben gestured towards the churchyard, thinking hard. “It would be the last place you’d look, after all, there’s lots of bodies there anyway.”

“Ben. Thanks for your input, but I don’t think that would be appropriate. Maybe leave the policing to us, ok,” Callum said and Ben knew that was it. He sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” he said, voice low as he gazed up at Callum. “But I’ll leave it.”

“Where are you going? Home?” Callum’s voice sounded worried as he stood, watching Ben back away.

“Nah, to the pub. Think I need a strong drink after the day I’ve had,” Ben said as he turned his back on the DI and strode away. Served him right for putting his trust in the police force, after all.

Half an hour and two whiskeys later, Ben was startled to see Callum come striding into the pub. He looked around and then stalked over to where he was sitting. “Come with me,” was how he greeted a bemused Ben. “Please.”

Ben got up quickly, unsure of what was going on. “Are you going to arrest me?” he asked, half jokingly. “Because I really didn’t do it, Officer.”

“No, come on,” Callum seemed a little distracted, taking hold of Ben’s hand and pulling him back across the square where they’d spoken earlier. He didn’t let go of Ben’s fingers as they walked, instead letting his long fingers meld in between Ben’s own. His hand was cold, like he’d been outside ever since Ben had left him and he strode like he was a man on a mission. All Ben could do was squeeze his fingers tighter, worried about what was going on

He pulled Ben into the church graveyard, towards the one of the most recent graves. “Tell me something,” he demanded, when they were standing, still hand in hand over the site. “When exactly did you move into Primrose Cottage?”

“Two months ago,” Ben said, not seeing where this was going.

“And you said there was a funeral on the day you arrived?”

“Yeah, I was stuck behind the cars. Callum? What’s going on?”

Callum took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the grave site. “The funeral you saw was for this guy, Alfie. An old man, held in high esteem in the community. I didn’t go to his funeral. But I did go to Ronnie’s. She was a friend of the family, when I was younger. Nice lady, if a bit crazy. Sad day, you know.” and he gestured towards another plot, a few sites away.

Ben was still puzzled. “I don’t get it,” he admitted.

“Look at their graves, Ben. Ronnie was buried six weeks ago. Alfie, two months. Tell me what’s wrong here.”

Ben looked between the two graves and suddenly, startlingly understood what Callum was getting at. “She was buried after him but her plot is covered in grass…”

“Only two weeks later. There should be less grass on hers, not more.” Callum gazed unhappily at the grave they were standing by, at the mound of bare earth that was covering where the coffin was. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned and his fingers tightened around Ben’s. “I should just walk away, pretend I never saw this.”

“You wouldn’t have got me to come look if you were going to ignore it,” Ben pointed out.

“Wanted a second opinion,” Callum groaned. “Fuck, fuck, shit.” He turned to gaze at Ben with large eyes. “I think you may be onto something after all.”

He swallowed hard, released Ben’s hand to grab his phone out of his pocket, leaving Ben’s fingers missing his heat immediately. He moved away, but Ben could hear the words, Callum not hiding them from him at all.

“Lola? You ok? Got any plans for this evening? No, I’m glad. Cos I’m about to absolutely ruin your night.”


	5. Chapter 5

Ben returned to the pub, leaving Callum to wait for his team to arrive. He should go home, he knew that, but there was something in him that wanted to see how this played out. After all, now there was more to this than just his reputation, if there was nothing there then Callum had put everything on the line. And he couldn’t deny the want to make sure Callum was fine and not hurt by this. Going home meant he couldn’t keep an eye on what was happening.

Darkness fell as he sat by the window, nursing a pint and he could see a few police cars and torch light moving around in the graveyard, under the tent that had been hastily erected where they were working. And then, a host of more police cars, with their blue lights flashing started to turn up and he knew.

They’d found something.

  
  


Callum stood, hands on hips, surveying the freshly dug grave site. What a night. The CSI team were in the hole, helping to remove the second body they’d found, without a coffin, in the grave. He turned to face Lola, who was pale and he knew his stern look was reflected on her face. “Looks like we found ourselves a body after all,” he said, grimly.

“Now we’ve just got to ID it,” Lola said, quietly. This was the worst part of the job, doing an identification and then telling the deceased’s family. Callum hated it but he knew as the lead Inspector in the village, the horrible job would fall to him.

He’d grown up in the village and knew most people, so when the CSI team had done their work and respectfully put the body into a bag, he crossed over and unzipped the part covering the face. It was a difficult line to maintain, being respectful and doing his job, but he had experience of dealing with this before. It didn’t take long to ID the poor soul and he could thankfully send the body off to be properly cared for.

“Who was it?” Lola asked as he crossed back over to the car and pulled his laptop towards him.

“Viscount Henry Betram,” Callum said grimly. The local gentry, could this be any worse. He took a deep breath. “We’d better speak to the vicar, see if she can shed any light on what’s been happening here.”

“He’d been away on holiday,” Lola mentioned, “I haven’t seen him since before Christmas. Has he been dead long?”

“Few days, maximum,” Callum looked over at her. “Ties in with the body Ben saw hanging by Primrose Cottage. Have to get the post mortem back to see if it collaborates the story too.” He looked at Lola. “How did you know he was on holiday? Didn’t think you spoke to him much?”

“I don’t, I saw Danny Hardcastle a few weeks ago and he told me. Said he was enjoying having a bit of time off. You don’t think….”

“I don’t think anything until we’ve got evidence,” Callum ran a hand over his face. “Come on, Lo, let's leave these to it and go and speak to Mr Hardcastle. See if he can throw any light on the matter.”

They left the churchyard and made their way over to the station where Callum’s car was parked and as they walked over the square, Callum stopped, looking at the pub and pondering if Ben had gone back there. He bet he had, there would be no way he would go home with everything going on. He touched Lola’s arm. “You get the car started and grab the paperwork. I’ll be over soon,” he said as he gestured towards the pub.

“Ben?” Lola asked dryly and when Callum guiltily nodded she shook her head. “Should you really be telling him anything at this stage, boss?”

“What, you’ve gone from thinking he’s delusional to thinking he’s done it?”

“Well, he is a Mitchell after all. Maybe he’s been suffering blackouts and forgot he did it? He has past misdemeanours, you remember,” Lola pointed out.

“He wouldn’t have been pushing me to find the body if he’d done it,” Callum shrugged. “Call it coppers instinct, he’s innocent, Lola. Besides, he moved here to get away from his father. He’s not going to mess that up straight away. I trust him.” He pushed her lightly away. “Go on, he was right, he deserves to know. I’ll catch you up.”

And before either she could say anything more or he could change his mind, he’d trotted off towards the pub.

Ben was sitting by the window, he’d obviously been keeping an eye on proceedings but the second Callum walked in, he looked up, their eyes meeting from across the room and he gestured for him to come over. Callum fell thankfully into the chair opposite.

“Drink?” Ben asked, gently but Callum shook his head.

“I can’t. Got lots of things to do tonight, thanks to you,” he said, regretfully.

“You found something,” Ben guessed and at Callum’s rather glum nod, he added, “a body?”

“Yep,” Callum said, heaving a sigh. “You were right, after all.”

“Not something to be relieved over, is it,” Ben said, in the same grim tone and he reached over and covered Callum’s hand gently. “Someone’s dead. I mean, I wasn’t seeing things, but that’s not compensation, is it?”

“I owe you an apology,” Callum started, but Ben shook his head firmly.

“No, you don’t, you were perfectly professional. But if you insist, maybe a drink once this is all over? Or dinner?”

Ben had dropped his head a little as he asked, and Callum’s breath caught in his throat. He turned his hand over so their fingers were linked. “Once the case is over, yeah, I’d like that,” he said and was rewarded by a bright smile from Ben.

“Who is it?” he eventually asked, letting his fingers trace over Callum’s knuckles slowly.

“A local member of the gentry, Viscount Betram. Not sure if you’ve ever met him.”

Ben frowned as the realisation of who he was talking about came folding back into his mind. There was no way he wanted to admit that there was history between the Mitchell’s and the person who worked for the man who had been killed. He decided to play dumb. “Name’s familiar. I never met him… but I think I may have met his butler? Came into the pub the first week I was here with Jay and had a go at him. Not a nice person.”

“Jay knew him, did he?” Callum asked and Ben sat up a little straighter.

“You don’t think Jay did it, do you?” he said with a laugh. “Because let me tell you, that boy would run from his own shadow, he’s not a killer.”

“Everyone’s a suspect, until proven innocent,” Callum said with a wink. “Jay, the vicar, I mean the body was found on her land, so she’s on my list too.”

“Am I a suspect too?” Ben asked and Callum was sure he was flirting with him now. “Because I’m still waiting for you to arrest me. Handcuffs and all.”

Callum only stayed for a few more minutes, before making Ben promise he’d make his way home safely. Lola was waiting for him and he had suspects to talk to after all, so he knew it would be a long night. Lola was sitting in the car already when he got over to her and she rolled her eyes as he started the engine and began to drive away.

“What?” he demanded when she’d rolled her eyes for the fortieth time in five minutes.

“You fancy him,” she accused him. “That’s why you told him.”

“Stop implying I’m being unprofessional,” Callum sighed, knowing he was skirting close to the line but remembering the warmth of Ben’s hand made him not want to consider it. “Thanks to Ben, we know a time and date of death. That’s going to help us catch whoever did this. So leave it, Lola, please.”

Lola huffed but they were pulling up on the large drive of the Manor House so she thankfully dropped the matter.

They got out of the car and approached the door, knocking firmly. There was silence from inside the house, so Callum knocked again, and this time they could hear a voice and so were prepared when the door opened to show a balding man, holding a large rolling pin in his hands.

“Can I help you?” he said, turning the rolling pin over and over, causing Callum to look at it with some trepidation.

“Mr Danny Hardcastle?” he enquired, keeping his voice neutral.

“Who wants to know?” Hardcastle snarled, and Callum held out his badge.

“Police. I’m DI Highway, this is DS Pearce. Are you Mr Hardcastle?”

There was a flash of angry eyes as the man stared at the badge and then back up at Callum. He was now holding the rolling pin more menacingly, and Callum raised himself to the balls of his feet, ready for the potential disaster. “Yes, I am,” Hardcastle said, grudgingly.

“You work for Viscount Betram, right? Is he here?”

“He’s been on holiday, I haven’t seen him for a few months.”

“Can you tell us where on holiday he is?” Lola interjected and got a filthy look for her efforts.

“South of Italy,” Hardcastle shrugged.

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific, sir,” Callum said, “phone number, address, anything, please.”

“I don’t have it, he’s moving around. What is this about?”

“Maybe we should go inside,” Callum murmured, keeping a watchful eye on the rolling pin and being extremely thankful when they were ushered inside and the pin was put down.

“Well?” Hardcastle demanded when they were a messy office.

“We found a body this evening,” Callum decided to be upfront. “We have reason to believe it’s that of the Viscount . So it’s vital we contact him if he is on holiday, so we can verify his health.”

“It can’t be him, he’s on holiday,” Hardcastle insisted, starting to look through the papers on the desk in front of him. “Hang on, let me look for a phone number,” and he left the office, presumably to look elsewhere.

Callum peered around the office, wondering whether his intuition was correct and if he should have let Hardcastle go off by himself. After all, there was no connection between anything yet, only his gut telling him to be watchful. So he was looking out of the window, carefully, and was able to notice the shadowy figure immediately.

Hardcastle was running down the drive, with a bag over his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Callum cried out, pointing him out to Lola and then running out afterwards. Luckily because he’d been watching, Hardcastle hadn’t gotten too far away, but there was a car parked at the bottom of the drive and he had enough of a head start for Callum to realise he was going to get there and drive away before he could reach him. Shit, he’d never hear the end of this disaster. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware he couldn’t hear Lola running behind him, but he had no time to stop and look around. He put his head down and drew a burst of speed from somewhere.

But he was still too slow, and he could see Hardcastle opening the door and throwing his bag inside and he bit back a groan.

And then a dark figure vaulted over the car bonnet, from the side, and landed right on top of a startled Hardcastle. Lola grabbed the winded Hardcastle from the floor and pinned him to the car door, shooting a triumphant grin back at Callum.

“Got him!” she said as Callum came up.

“Wondered where you’d gone,” Callum said, with a brief nod.

“Thought I’d take a detour over the lawn, try to cut him off. Worked well, I would say,” Lola said, sounding breathless but pleased.

“Nice work,” Callum moved so he was standing in front of Hardcastle. Running was enough to bring him in for questioning, in his eyes at least. “Where do you think you were going ah?”

“I ain’t saying anything without my lawyer. Police brutality!” Hardcastle spat but Callum wasn’t having any of it.

“Why don’t you exercise your right to silence and just shut the fuck up?” he suggested mildly. “Lo, call a van, let's get him in for questioning. And get the house searched. Must have something to hide, if he’s running away from us.”

It was so early that it was still dark when Callum took a breather and grabbed a cup of coffee from the vending machine in the police station in Nerton. He was shattered, but they had so much on Hardcastle that it looked like he would be banged up for a long time. Fingerprints had matched violent robberies, both in local villages and in London, and the search of the manor had found proof that someone had been kept prisoner in one of the attic rooms for months. The last report had come through an hour ago, proving that no one by the name of Henry Betram had left or re entered the country at any point over the last six months. He’d done it, now he just had to confess.

He was being taken to an interview room, by Lola and another police officer whilst Callum planned his questions. He had so many things he wanted to ask. Why had he hung the body outside Ben’s house? If he’d been working in London, was this some sort of retaliation against Ben, as a Mitchell? Did he even know Phil Mitchell? Why had there been such a long gap between the imprisonment and the murder? It was going to be a long morning.

He took the stairs two at a time, determined to get a confession before sunrise, but was abruptly brought up short at the sight of the mess in the interview room. “What the fuck!” he cried out as he started to run.

Lola was sitting by the door, hand to her head and there were two uniformed police lying flat out on the floor. As Callum came running in, he could see there was no one else in there and the fire exit door at the back of the room was wide open.

He grabbed hold of Lola’s arm carefully, checking she was ok and resisting the urge to shake her. “What happened?”

“Hardcastle, he fainted, we went to help…” she said, her voice trailing off.

“He faked an illness and you fell for it,” Callum finished for her, in disgust. “Damn it Lola, that’s the oldest trick in the book!”

“I’m sorry,” Lola stood up and Callum shook his head, it was more important to move on and deal with the issue than dwell on any mistakes.

“It’s happened. Let’s just catch the bloody bastard, right,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll let the train and ferry companies know who he is, we’ll catch him if he tries to leave the country. We’ll put out an alert to local police forces too.”

“Sir,” Lola put a hand out to stop him rushing out. “Hang on a minute. Think about it. He chose to hang the body outside Primrose Cottage, he worked in London. What about if this was more than just a coincidence? What about if he was trying to make us think that Ben did it?”

Callum stood, mouth dropping open as the realisation dawned. “He’d know Ben spoke to us, that he was the one who knew it was a murder. Shit!”

He grabbed his phone, glad he’d saved Ben’s phone number the first time he’d called about finding the body and dialled. There was no answer, and as it rang out, Callum swore. “Fuck it, Ben, pick up your bloody phone.”

As the answerphone clicked in, he made eye contact with Lola. “Ben? It’s Callum here. Look. We arrested Danny Hardcastle for murder but he’s done a runner. We think he may be coming for you. Stay indoors, don’t answer the door. I’m coming, I’ll call when I get there.” Hanging up after leaving the message he turned and faced Lola straight on.

“There’s a house phone too, get some of the guys to start calling and not stop until he picks up. I’m going there now, sort out some back up and send them as soon as you can!” and leaving Lola to deal with the uniformed men, the demands he’d asked and the mess at the station, he turned and ran off as quickly as he could.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of the phone ringing rousled Ben from a deep sleep. He’d got home late, still with the images of blue lights imprinted on his brain, remembering how he’d felt on the last job he’d done with Phil. Too close for comfort, he’d taken a sleeping pill to help when he got into bed.

He wasn’t sure what was making the noise, to be honest, rather he was just aware that something was annoyingly making loud shrill noises and he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He stumbled into the bathroom, splashed some cold water on his face and then went downstairs to get a coffee, wake up properly and work out exactly where the noise was coming from. Maybe then he could throw it down the bottom of the garden where it wouldn’t disturb him again.

A knock at the back door made him jump and he opened it without thinking too much, assuming it would be Callum or a different police person checking in on the tree at the bottom of his garden. He was still sleepy, and was slow to react when a tall, bald man burst into his kitchen, shoving him back against one of the chairs. “Hey!” he started but was stopped short when the man turned around and grabbed one of the large knives from the sideboard and brandished it at Ben.

“Who are you?” Ben demanded, blinking furiously and as the fog finally cleared - it was amazing what having a large knife inches from his face did - he realised who was standing in front of him. “Fuck,” he swore.

“Fuck indeed,” Danny Hardcastle sneered. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, mini Mitchell. Good job I recognised you from the work I did with your father, even if you’d never seen me before. Would have been a quick, easy way to get rich and you’ve caused the police to be all over me like a rash. You’re scum, I thought you were bad enough when you were working with you father. But this, this is personal now. Get away from the window and get upstairs.” and he gestured with the knife to the doorway.

Ben eyed the knife and the front door, trying to judge how quick he’d have to be to get out with being attacked. As Hardcastle approached, shepherding him into the hall towards the stairs, he realised he had no chance. “Bit rude,” he said, falling back onto his only form of defence. “If you wanted to get in my bedroom, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up,” Hardcastle growled and shoved Ben to the bottom of the stairs. “Get up!”

“I’m afraid being threatened means it’s quite hard for me to get up.”

Hardcastle looked like he was going to lose his temper fully, but the shrill ringing of the phone in the hall made them both stop and stare. Ben now realised it has been that sound that had woken him up and considered making a run to pick it up, if someone was ringing him repeatedly then surely they’d be looking to send help? But Hardcastle had decided to ignore his distraction technique of blatant innuendo and instead yanked out the phone cord and pushed Ben up the stairs. “Go.”

There was nothing else to do but obey, and Ben had the vague idea that if he kept Hardcastle talking long enough, maybe that would give him some leverage to catch him out, or give someone time to come. If anyone was actually worried, that was, he wasn’t exactly expecting visitors at this time of the morning.

Hardcastle backed him into a corner of his bedroom, sneering as he looked around for something, smirking a little as he pulled the rope out of Ben’s dressing gown. Ben eyes it with some trepidation, realising he was about to be tied up with his own clothing. “You won’t get away with this, you know,” he said.

“Oh, I think I will,” Hardcastle said, just like he was making conversation. “The old Viscount was killed by a Mitchell intent on proving himself. His body was found at the bottom of this garden, after all.”

“Your fingerprints all over it,” Ben countered. “And the police know you did it. You’ve made yourself look guilty, they won’t believe it’s me.”

“Maybe your father will say it’s you too. He owes me, you know.”

“You’re crazy,” Ben said. “You’re completely insane.”

The sound of Ben’s mobile ringing made them both look at each other and Hardcastle’s face changed, into something more stern and scary. Ben was sure Hardcastle believed he would be named as a murderer, but that didn’t leave much manoeuvre room as he’d do anything to pin it on someone else.

“Maybe an accident for little Mitchell instead then, if you’re so sure they won’t believe you did it,” Hardcastle walked around the bedroom, looking into drawers and in the wardrobe. “An accident in the bath, maybe? Or…”

He stopped, right by the bedside cabinet, where the phone had just finished ringing and picked up the bottle of sleeping pills Ben had left there last night. “Or, an accidental overdose. No one would ever know. Take them,” and he threw the bottle at Ben.

“No,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes.

“Take them all, or I’ll slit your stomach and watch as you beg me to kill you quicker. I know what I’d prefer if it was me. Now, take the pills, you stupid child! No one’s going to miss you anyway, not your dad or anyone here. So hurry up, I don’t have all day!”

Ben reached for the glass of water, mind racing as he tried to think of a way out and then providence struck. As his fingers closed around the glass, the doorbell went downstairs, repeatedly and a loud banging started. Hardcastle looked around, only for a second, but that was all Ben needed. He was still a Mitchell after all.

The glass of water hit Hardcastle in the face and as he spluttered widely, Ben grabbed hold of the bedside table, ripped it up and whacked Hardcastle with as much force as he could muster.

The sound of the door being broken in made Ben blink back from the sight in front of him and he picked up the knife from an unconscious Hardcastle’s hand and stumbled down the stairs. Halfway down he stopped at the sight, Callum, hair and eyes wild, storming into his hallway. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Callum gulped loudly. “Ben! Are you ok? Is he here?”

Ben realised he was still holding the knife and put it down with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “Upstairs. He tried… he tried to kill me. I hit him with a table. I think he’ll live though, but you may want to cuff him properly.”

Callum gave him an unreadable look. “Go and sit in the kitchen, I’ll deal with him,” he said softly and Ben nodded and slid past him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Pity,” he said as Callum started upwards. “He’s going to get more use out of your handcuffs than I am.”

The cottage was soon overrun by police and an ambulance and within an hour, a re arrested Hardcastle was taken to hospital, with a large lump on his head and a scowl at Ben as he was walked through the hall. Lola went with him in the ambulance, still furious about what had happened and Ben was left with Callum, ready to take his statement about what had happened.

After the official business had taken place and Callum had sent the statement off with the last of his team, it was just the two of them and Ben made cups of tea and sat opposite Callum in the garden. The sun was up, even if it was still chilly, but having Callum there made Ben warm from the inside. If his musings and the log of phone calls showed anything, it was that someone would have missed him if Hardcastle had been successful.

“I’m sorry,” Callum said, leaning back in his chair. “For letting Hardcastle escape custody. Incompetence in the force, ah, who would have thought?”

Ben laughed a little. “It’s fine, honestly. I’ve had worse done to me in the past. Thank you for coming to rescue me. My knight in shining armour, hey?”

Callum blushed, so pretty in the mid morning sun. “Looks like you had it all under control.”

“Only because you provided a distraction,” Ben said. “Made me feel good, actually, better than any stupid therapy session. Hitting someone right in the face? Brilliant.”

Callum smiled. “Don’t tell me that, with me being a policeman and all. Although, I guess he deserved it. So I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

“Damn, still no handcuffs,” Ben pretended to pout, but he shot a look up at Callum from under his eyelashes. The moment became loaded, as both of them stared at each other before Callum hastily cleared his throat.

“You may need to testify, about what he did to you. Depends on what charges we end up going for. He’s going to go down for a long time, anyway, but anything extra will help us. Are you ok with that? I can sort out anonymity if you like.”

Ben knew what Callum was alluding to, but he was so over his father he didn’t care. “It’s ok, I’ll do it. I want to be different, I want to be better. It’s hard, I know that, but I think maybe I’m getting there?”

“Oh, you are,” Callum agreed immediately, his eyes soft and warm as he gazed at Ben. “I think you’re amazing, brave and have quite the arm too by the look of it.”

Ben could feel the warmth starting in his cheeks too. “Well, I guess I found something more important than being in my father’s good graces, after all,” he said quietly.

“Did you know him, Hardcastle, I mean?” Callum asked.

“Not really. He worked with my dad, he double crossed my dad and I know he wasn’t pleased with him. But I’d never seen him before until I met him here.” Ben explained. “I wanted to tell you, but I thought you’d think I had done it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Callum declared, “I knew you were a good sort from the moment I met you.”

“Delusional,” Ben teased lightly.

They sat in silence for a while, until Callum cleared his throat. “I’d better go, I’ll keep you updated with what’s going on. And after everything’s been sorted, maybe we could go for that drink? If you still want to, that is?”

“Thanks,” Ben stood up too, already missing the company. “I’ll hold you to that drink, Officer.”

It took three days to get Hardcastle to confess, a deal with other police forces proved his guilt in many unsolved cases and his lawyers must have eventually convinced him it was better to take a plea deal. Callum signed off the paperwork with a sigh. At least it meant the case was closed, even if the length of the jail term would have been more appropriate if it had gone to court fully. Still, it was a job well done, and he knew he had one person to thank for that.

Ever since he’d left Ben in the garden, he’d been thinking about him. It was only the knowledge that he was a witness in a live case that meant he’d stayed away. He’d imagined the way the defense team would have ripped the case to shreds if there was any hint of any romantic feelings between the head police officer and a witness. It wasn’t worth his job, or the risk of ruining Hardcastle going to jail. But now the case was over, he had no qualms about seeing Ben again.

He left work, leaving a grinning Lola waving at him, and drove to Ben’s cottage without any clear plan in mind but the minute he saw him again, he was glad he was there. Ben looked happier than any time he’d seen him before, a smile on his face as he opened the door to Callum, eyes lighter and twinkling as he gazed at the suit Callum was still wearing. “Came straight from work, ah?” he asked as he let Callum in.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you,” Callum shrugged off his jacket as he sat down, noticing the way Ben’s eyes widened at the sight of his white work shirt. “Hardcastle’s admitted to it. You won’t need to go to court after all.”

“Thank fuck,” Ben said. Callum knew what he had been planning to do was against all his family values and would probably have caused massive repercussions from his father, so his relief was evident. He looked speculatively at Callum. “You got anywhere to go to tonight? We could get a takeaway in?”

All Callum had was a cold, lonely flat to go back to and there was no way he wanted to miss the chance of a night with a boy he liked, in a warm and cosy house. “Chinese?”

“Of course,” Ben scoffed, smile on his lovely face.

“You’ve twisted my arm.”

Ben waited until the food had arrived and they were sitting at the table before asking any questions, something Callum was surprised over. He’d thought he’d want to know straight away, but instead they’d spent a lovely hour just chatting. Ben set the table, with a candle in the middle and dished up the food property, sniffing appreciatively at the food as he did. Callum was more interested in the man himself, rather than the food, he looked rather more appealing to his eyes, at least.

“So he confessed then?” Ben started off by asking, quietly as they tucked in, his cheeks pink.

“Yeah, thank god. Turns out he’s wanted for numerous crimes all over the place, under different names, but fingerprints don’t lie. Once we’d got him confirmed as the perpetrator from three other police forces, there wasn’t much he could do, except to confess and take a lighter sentence for pleading guilty.”

“Why’d he kill the Viscount anyway? A big step up, murder, from the silly stuff he and my dad used to do,” Ben commented.

“Seemed Bertram had promised he’d make Hardcastle his named heir, give him all his money when he’d gone. He had no kids, you see, and Hardcastle had been working for him for the last ten years, popping into London and around when he needed to, storing dodgy goods in the Manor House right under Bertram’s nose. No one knew.”

“That’s why he could never find him,” Ben breathed out, understanding dawning on his face, “whenever he crossed my dad and he was mad and tried to have him taken out, he could never locate him. What a rat.”

“Mmm,” Callum agreed, snatching a prawn cracker. “Well, it seemed that the lure of all the money was too much for him this time. Got fed up with waiting, so he locked him up in an attic until he was fed up enough to sign the papers giving Hardcastle all his money when he was dead and then Hardcastle killed him for all his troubles. Told everyone in the village he’d gone on holiday so no one would worry.”

“I can’t believe he thought he’d get away with it!”

Callum winked. “Would have, expect he hadn’t banked on you. See, he decided that he wanted to make Phil pay and he thought the best way was to set you up. He killed him and then he dragged the body down here once he’d found out where you lived, it’s close enough through the woods to get here from the manor. Strung him up in the tree first, but he wasn’t planning on you seeing it quickly and then coming out and calling the police. He wasn’t expecting that, he thought you'd cut the body down, dispose of it and then he could find it and your fingerprints would be all over it. He didn’t care about you, he just wanted to get back at Phil. He really dislikes your dad, you know.”

“Wait,” Ben put his fork down, staring over the table at Callum and he looked a little ill. “He saw me, that morning?”

Callum winced a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you that. It was misty, right? He was still in the trees when you went down to check the body. Realised he couldn’t leave it there if the police were going to be called immediately, his plan wouldn't work if you didn’t touch it. He must have cut it down whilst you were in here waiting for us. Good job you didn’t see him, or else things may have gone differently. He’s got balls, that’s true.”

“I thought I was going mad,” Ben admitted. “And all it was was bloody Danny Hardcastle being a tool. No wonder my dad hates him.”

“Yeah, well, it’s thanks to you that he was caught. Thanks for pushing me and not letting me give in.”

“You’re welcome,” and the smile Ben gave him warmed Callum up from the very inside.

They’d finished their meal and Ben did not want Callum to leave. He’d gotten out some bottles of coke, aware that he’d driven here and not wanting to inconvenience him by giving him alcohol and they were now sitting on a sofa in the sitting room. Callum’s leg was folded underneath him, half turned to look fully at Ben, his arm draped over the back of the sofa as they talked. It was so easy, so nice, Ben could imagine this every night.

“I saw the new name of the cottage,” Callum said suddenly, his fingers tapping on the back of the sofa.

“Yeah,” Ben said softly. “I thought it would be nice to remember Albert, you know. Give the cottage its original name back.”

“I think it’s lovely. And does that mean you’re planning on staying?” Callum seemed nervous as he asked the question and Ben couldn’t stop the spike of hope flaring in his chest or the smile that spread over his face.

“Yeah, I am staying, I like it here,” he said and he didn’t miss the look of happiness that flashed over Callum’s face.

He tapped his glass of coke. “Want a beer?” he asked.

“Better not, I’m driving,” Callum said.

“You could stay the night?”

“Are you propositioning me, Mr Mitchell?” Callum asked, but his face and eyes were fond as he looked at Ben.

“There is a spare room if you’d prefer,” Ben said, looking fully up at Callum and seeing the look of interest that flashed over his face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Callum started, and he dropped his eyes so he wasn’t looking at Ben. “It’s more that I like to get to know someone first before jumping into bed with them. You know, date someone, kiss them, spend time with them. Old fashioned, I know, but it has to mean something for me to sleep with someone. And if I stayed, I’d end up breaking that and I don’t want to. I like you, Ben, so I want to do things properly. If you want to, that is.”

“I want to,” Ben breathed, his heart racing with anticipation. “But… I’m not the easiest person to date. I’m a Mitchell, after all. You’re a policeman. I’ve not had a proper relationship before, I’m used to just one night stands. You may be fed up of me.”

“I won’t be fed up,” Callum declared. “We can make it work, I don’t care if you’re a Mitchell. You’re also brave and lovely and intelligent and I love talking to you. I’m not easy to date either, my hours of work are awful and I have to pull out of dates at the last minute if I get called into work and…”

“Stop it,” Ben ordered and he let his hand move until he was holding onto Callum’s fingers. “I want to try too. So let’s do it, right? Let’s date.”

“Can’t let you not even try the handcuffs once,” Callum said with a wink and that made Ben laugh.

Something had occurred to him however. “Callum, please tell me that you didn’t dig up a grave just because you fancied me,” he asked in horror and wasn’t reassured by the way that Callum laughed and squeezed his fingers tightly.

“No, of course not!” and then he admitted. “Maybe it helped a little, tiny bit.”

“Good job I was right then,” Ben grinned, letting his fingers entwine fully with Callum’s.

They didn’t let go for the rest of the evening, the feel of Callum’s thumb stroking over the back of Ben’s hand leaving him feeling hotter than any one night stand he’d had back in London. When Callum left, it was with a promise for dinner and drinks the following evening. Ben walked him to the door, hand in hand and was charmed when Callum leant in and brushed his lips over his cheek softly. “Goodnight, Ben,” he whispered, so close that his breath tickled over Ben’s skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better,” Ben said in reply and he turned his head and kissed the cheek next to his in reply.

He was standing in the doorway, watching as Callum flung his jacket into the car and then straightened up and strode back up the drive. “Did you forget something?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Callum said firmly and before Ben could think anything else, he slid his beautiful large hands around Ben’s neck. “Is this ok?”

Ben could only nod as Callum pulled him close, his hands coming up to the other man's shoulders as their lips met. Callum’s lips were chapped and his mouth warm in the cool air, and Ben instinctively pulled him closer, letting the kiss deepen and soften as their lips moved sweetly against each other.

Just as Ben ran his tongue over the seam of Callum’s lips, feeling the gasp as he opened for Ben, the light in the porch above them suddenly blew with a loud bang, causing them to fall apart in confusion. Callum’s hands slid down his back so Ben was in his arms and he tilted his head upwards, pressed close against Ben.

“I don’t think Albert approves,” Ben said lightly and hugged Callum tighter as the other man laughed and pulled back to look into Ben’s eyes.

“Fuck Albert,” he said as he pulled Ben in again, letting his tongue brush Ben’s softly then curl behind his teeth in the right way to make Ben’s knees go weak.

“I don’t think he’d approve of that either, you know,” he managed to say, standing on his tiptoes to reach Callum’s lips better, sinking into the soft kisses they were sharing in the dark.

“Well, he’ll have to get used to it, won’t he?” Callum said, with a smile as he pulled back. He ran his fingers through Ben’s hair, over the shell of his ear, down his jaw. “I’d better go before you tempt me back inside.”

“See you tomorrow,” Ben leant in for one more kiss, lingering in its loveliness, letting Callum suck on his bottom lip gently before parting.

Callum waved as he got into his car and drove off and left alone, Ben stared upwards at the broken light. “You’d better not do anything to scare him off, Albert,” he threatened mildly. “Or maybe I’ll have to get you exorcised after all.” He shook his head with a wry laugh. “God, look at me, talking to a ghost that doesn’t even exist. Good job I like it here, ah, Al?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Part 2 will start to be uploaded next week

**Author's Note:**

> And I just realised I’d written a whole chapter and not named Callum once!
> 
> Never fear, he will be in the story next chapter.


End file.
